I have a wound
From where the red blood flowed with clots that pained
Babies dead and nothing else remained
Yet I tried again and never knew
My interior a man might love to view
In childhood this place seemed so very small
Now it feels so huge, the size appalls
The envy of the plain, the vice of fools
This sacred space, a woman’s school
I have a wound

Is your glowing face a map?
are your tender ways a map?
what is not a map?
Is your open smile a map?
Is your deepest groan a map?
what is not a map?
Is my  too sharp touch a map?
Is my too quick glance a map?
what is not a map?

Is this sea green leaf a map,
Is this light red flower a map?
What sort of map is that?
Is the evening sky a map,
Is the silver moon a map?
Of what is that a map?
Is this entire world a map?
Is the sun-soaked sky a map?
Is this tiny child a map?

think I am a map.
Who can learn to read these maps?
Without love we can’t perceive;
Who can teach us how to see?

Can we look beyond the Map?
Can we look into the gap?
What can Love,now, read?
What Love now can we receive?

I take you to be my raucaus. bedded lust -fiend
To have out on Bail
Make love in the Fall
For better for worse
To kiss and to curse
For witches with Euros
And those with olf bureaus
To witness our wealth
And have sex here by stealth
Till we ruin our health
And lose maps and heart
Until wrath does us part
And the hearse will not start
I love to be smart

s

When thy song is shield and mirror

To the fair snake-curlèd Pain,

Where thou dar’st affront her terror

That on her thou may’st attain Perséan conquest

Francis Thompson wrote those lines.. see below
I am interested in these lines from the poem below…. When thy song is shield and mirror To the fair snake-curlèd Pain, Where thou dar’st affront her terror That on her thou may’st attain Perséan conquest; I think the meaning is that by expressing what is in us creatively in poetry or other forms we can overcome what we are afraid of not by attacking and killing it but indirectly in the manner of Perseus who killed the Medusa Gorgon by locating her and seeing her reflected in the mirror of his shield.Others had been turned to stone by her gaze.
Expression is the mirror/shield
Read about Perseus below http://www.greekmythology.com/Myths/Heroes/Perseus/perseus.html 
This is where I got the poem………Bartleby.com a good website re which I say go visit. Nicholson & Lee, eds. The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse. 1917. 240.
From ‘The Mistress of Vision’ By Francis Thompson (1859–1907)
WHERE is the land of Luthany, Where is the tract of Elenore? I am bound therefor. ‘Pierce thy heart to find the key; With thee take 5 Only what none else would keep; Learn to dream when thou dost wake, Learn to wake when thou dost sleep. Learn to water joy with tears, Learn from fears to vanquish fears; 10 To hope, for thou dar’st not despair, Exult, for that thou dar’st not grieve; Plough thou the rock until it bear; Know, for thou else couldst not believe; Lose, that the lost thou may’st receive; 15 Die, for none other way canst live. When earth and heaven lay down their veil, And that apocalypse turns thee pale; When thy seeing blindeth thee To what thy fellow-mortals see; 20 When their sight to thee is sightless; Their living, death; their light, most lightless; Search no more— Pass the gates of Luthany, tread the region Elenore.’ Where is the land of Luthany, 25 And where the region Elenore? I do faint therefor. ‘When to the new eyes of thee All things by immortal power, Near or far, 30 Hiddenly To each other linkèd are, That thou canst not stir a flower Without troubling of a star; When thy song is shield and mirror 35 To the fair snake-curlèd Pain, Where thou dar’st affront her terror That on her thou may’st attain Perséan conquest; seek no more, O seek no more! 40 Pass the gates of Luthany, tread the region Elenore.

Oh,I always wanted to  have thinner hair.It dries faster
I’m glad I can take my teeth out at night though I prefer aural sex, polo  necks,feeling vexed, being perplexed
I wish our eyes came out and we could have new ones every day
I love being so fat.I can’t buy new clothes so I save the money to buy more food, to he rude, to  send clues, please peruse
I  never wanted to speak another language.There are still English words I’ve never heard of like ?
I like being  old.I want to go to Heaven and if there is none I won’t know,will I?
I like being disabled as they put me in a wheelchair at the hospital.It’s like being a toddler again
I gave the cab driver  £20 and  he  drove me round the bend
I gave the next one  £30 and he drove me round the bend and  over a Zebra crossing
I said I had no money so he  kept me in the cab  until I gave him  hell.Well I don’t own heaven

“To be sure of hitting the target, shoot first, and call whatever you hit the target.”– Ashleigh Brilliant

Gold stone from Cotswold  quarries men brought

And built into a way of life for those who bought

Their lives so cheaply,And did not see

The  children’s eyes ,the ball,.the game ,the tree

Of life that grew in small backyards and gave all

To those who climbed into its arms

Why should this not be you?

Oh,Eden,I see that you are nearer now

In lowly homes where love is free

Than in the temple, grove,and soft set brow

Of those who worship God in churches built of gold.

Now we can see that this is easy to behold

When sun is setting,and escapes the ashes

Thrown up and floating in the watches

Of the days of voter’e eyes cast up to skies

and , wondering fearful, what will come

when all the secret deals are done.

So take the gold of life and let it fall

Into your children’ s growing souls

And let this holy town and spires

Melt into sunset’s glowing orange fires.

Katherine  May 10, 2018

The ending of  the day brings nearer war
Is it France or Germany this time
As on those  cruel days we lived before?

Alas it is the Holy Land  adored,
No longer holy, no more thought  divine
The ending of  the day brings hints of war

David with his sling has nuclear power.
If this is true, how shall we read the signs
As  did humans  dead and gone before?

Asia,Europe.Africa, oh cower
The missiles and the war planes unbenign
The ending of  our world  draws near in war

The eyes seem innocent the mouth turns sour
World  leaders who have never fought decide
Not to learn from  long wars fought before.

Oh, why so keen to start, illegal bride?
Submit to  your own prophets and their signs
The  still small voice did whisper long ago
The sacred bush will burn with nuclear fire

 “I do not know with what weapons world war III will be fought, but world war IV will be fought with sticks and stones.”  Einstein

Albert Einstein

1

Alone I slept in the centre of our bed
Instead of in that mouldy sleeping bag
I slept so near the edge it wore away
And I slid to the floor one night last May

In the middle the wide space seemed too large
No-one there to hold me in their arms
I did not read a book,I was worn out
Pondering on the means and on the doubts

I’ve been lonely like a little child
That mother sent to Office in a file
Waiting for the “open now” command
Will I get to heaven or be condemned?


The file is cold,the Word has little shame
Not guilty of my lack of love and name
I got Office 35678
I can ‘t make attachments , it’s too late

The world collapsed upon me like a cliff
I fell down this dirty yellow rift
Nobody could hear my screams and yells
Perhaps being truly dead may be less hell.


I crawled into my bed as into arms
Solid reassuring, warm and calmI
I lay there in the middle , tried to pray
I can’t believe you’ve really gone away


I pray for all my family by name
My sister, brothers,cousins and the lame
I pray for readers who send notes to me
And for that random apple on the tree


I pray for friends who don’t believe in God
And pray for others ,mentally down-trod
Then I feel at loss and dream of you
Polishing my old black boots anew


Still I feel the emptiness inside
When I wake I think I feel your smile
Yet it’s not the same as being enrobed
In the arms of one who has great love



I guess we change but slowly and with pain
Like the folk who marched, their hope RemaiN

Mary put on her purple unlined wool coat
This coat seems too large, she told Emile. her smiley, little cat
Well, yes, it does seem to drape loosely over your massive bosom,Emile answered
That’s better than it clinging to my mature body, she remarked sarcastically yet sadly
Oh,no, said Emile, males love to see women’s figures
Well, they will not see mine. unless I do arithmetic on the blackboard;I must be losing weight
Is it dementia, the naughty cat enquired woundngly
Don’t be ridiculous.I have not forgotten who I am not gone out to Waitrose to buy the Oxford
Dictionary of Humming and Frightening Neighbours
True, he replied.Why not put another jumper on.It would look nice left open over a teal
merino wool rollneck
But I only have pale iris, she complained poisonously
Never mind,I don’t expect the police will arrest you for that.
Mary walked towards the bus stop, humming “The future” by Leonard Cohen
She said to herself, can’t you sing something more positive
Joan of Arc , her self replied
OK,I prefer Dance me to the End of Love
But that is about the Orchestra at Auschwitz
Well why does is it not called,Torture me and Kill Me as I sing
I don’t think anyone would buy that.And as Cohen said himself, poetry takes us to places different from what we expect
So even the composer is not the total Authority?
No,we are merely channels for the Other World
Mother,Emile miaowed, are you ok?
Just a touch of schizophrenia, Emile.Ignore me.I forgot you were with me
I didn’t know women liked to be ignored.Cats don’t
Well, you do now
And so mew all of us

January 31, 2012

If you can’t acknowledge your hatred if you deny it exists, even to yourself then it may cause havoc in your life.This does not mean letting it rip either.
It is very painful to hate someone you love.This is the dilemma of the infant and of all of us in life.
Perception and its possibililties and flaws are of the utmost importance ; ideas, wide and narrow focus in seeing .They came to my notice in the books
 “A Life of One’s Own”
 “On not being able to Paint” M

Narrow Focus kills

Blind sight scattered my wits

Like whitened bones

Across the deserts of my mind.

I descended into blackness.

Love shrank into the tame cat

By the fire,unacknowledged hate

Grew to fill the room.

I stared too much,

A full stop grew gigantic

Crowded out

All the words in the sentence

I saw nothing but this dot

Now a gigantic black hole

Into which I was dragged.

An energy coming from within my own head

Sucked me into the black hole.

That place was the wrong sort of dearkness.

Within that full stop,

Love Fundamental became invisible.

Disappered into the dark.

I dragged my eyes away

And saw the moon appear , so eerie,

It shone,grey silver.

If I had opened my eyees wider

I would not now lament

What I destroyed in the deep hole

Of the black dot that drew my eye

Into a tunnel of darkness

It blinded me to the light

Did not let me read the sentences

Beside the full stop.

An error of focus left hate

Unacknowledged,unmitigated unredeemed,

Kept from love or goodness

Afraid to spoil my love with hate,

The fear of hate became

That which spoiled all else else,

By freezing Love itself.

← 

.

I’ll draw a graph of Mother Earth
I’ll need a lot of paper.
It won’t be easy,I know that,
But Geo’s my alma mater.

Geo came into our maths class.
We had to find her metre.
If we did then we could write
A poem with which to greet her.

With ologies and eulogies,
The earth is deep in waste.
Give me some green graph charts
I’ll do some cut and paste.

I’ll rearrange the entire globe,
Without a deal of fuss.
If anybody notices
They won’t know it was us!

I’ll put all the mountains in the world
Inside one continent.
And if I am that way inclined
The globe will look quite bent.

I’ll put the lions and tigers too
Into Parliament.
Let them eat, not cake, but men
And don’t charge them a rent.

I’ll paste  the seas that I shall find
Onto my washing line.
With less water round the world
The weather should be fine.

Oh Geo was a darling child,
So promising and bright.
Mixed up by the graphs and charts
I hope she’ll see the light.

I’ll put the stars into a box
We have far too many.
Yet only one sun and one moon,
Would you  be my granny?

Geo return,I love you so.
I’ll give up cut and paste to show.
That you are all I ‘ll ever know,
I don’t want no more

Are you truly penitent?
Well my first name is Penny.
I mean,are you sorry?
I don’t mind
It’s your sins.
Being called Penny is not a sin
Why did you come to Confession?
I was bored.
That is a bad motive
You seem very critical
I am a priest
So was Aaron
Who  was Aaron?
Moses’s brother.
I thought you meant someone  Catholic
Well,my first sin is I am mortal
Do you repent?
Is it my fault?
Well, assume it is and I can absolve you
This is meaningless.
Well, it’s a sort of game as Wittgenstein  might have said
Don’t bring him into it!
Why not?
He said, whereof we cannot speak, we must remain silent.
That is not  quite right
Well,/i shall remain silent
I absolve you from your sins
Leave them alone!
Don’t you want to get rid of them?
Sin is all that keeps me alive!
Well, that  is a new perspective
And so say all of us

The sea at Whitby throws up cold sea salt
Determined to make blinding us its tool
We self blame but is attack our fault
When deep North waters try a fresh assault?
The sea at Whitby throws up its own salt
The bones of Captain Cook writhe in his vault
As children wind in masks down to their school
The dark deep sea at Whitby tastes of salt
Preserves drowned sailors, making of them ghouls

In my despair I felt that I was stuck
Paralysed by  grief and guilt I failed
By the end I had tried every trick

From prayer unthought to deeps of logic black
My  life, my engine ,juddered off the  rails
I hated God and of “his” Church was  sick

Starving  and alone I was in shock
The death of one I loved   had made me frail
By the end I had tried every trick

I felt  love’s arms around me,  death to block
I knew   this goodness,  why else would I wail?
I   thought I hated God  but Love had struck

Warm and golden light  that  did me hold
Where are you now when refugees  die cold?
Kind despair  that  made me long time sit
By the end I knew  Love needs no trick

My mother used to call naughty children ,little Turks
And now I know Boris Johnson I see why, though he is not little

She said she was in the Doldrums but never revealed the address
Any guidance

She said she wished she was dead many times
Did she want me to kill her or was she tormenting me or both

[ please write on both sides of the paper at once]

She never said she loved me but three babies in three years was tough.I could not suck her milk easily so I was at risk and she never felt able to forgive me.
I was s thin the students thought I was younger than them.I wore children’s blouses at 25 and got half fare on the bus [ not deliberately]
At last I have put weight on and they tell me I am at risk again.
It’s my thyroid gland.
I thought my doctor was strangling me when he stood behind me and put his hands round my throat after checking my lungs
I assumed he was feeling the gland.Don’t you think he should have told me? Though killing me in the Surgery was not really an option.He is a very quiet man.

I

t’s similar to a pun

When will you put the kettle on?
I’m not going dancing in a kettle,mother.

How do you feel today?
The same as yesterday, with my fingers

Are you coming home?
No, I’m going

Are you good at typing?
While in the class, yes.

What is in your pocket?
It can’t speak

Did you find any shells?
Clearly not, or I would not be here

My grandfather was a miner
Coal or land?

My parents died.Where are they?
They waved before drowning

Do you like riding horses?
I’ve never met one

What time is dinner?
What space?

I am too sensitive they say.I laughed at griefs

Why do people generalise?
Ask yourself!

Why are others so stupid?
They think the same way

Am I worthy of salvation
If you are,you don’t need it

I meant to write a poem of revenge
To hurt the one who shot out glacial words
I knew how to begin but how to end?

Through the Oxford. my sharp eyes had lunged
My vile emotions then were further stirred
I meant to write a poem of revenge

First he wooed me , showed his cultured friends
Sweet the words and soft the voice I heard
I knew how to begin but how to end?

Would retaliation my heart rend?
Down the vultures rushed ,carnivorous birds
As he wooed me with the words he wrung

My arm was disengaged by unseen hand
I could not write, impossible cruel words
I meant to write a poem of revenge

Lady of Macbeth, who’d wash in blood
When evil can be overcome by good?
I meant to write a poem of revenge
I hated once but Good controlled my hand

Doctor,I think I have got dire beasties.
I’m not a vet.

Is laughter infectious?
Yes, self isolate immediately

Can you take a joke?
It depends where I am going
You can’t take it with you.
I’ll have to send it on my horse.

Have you made a will?
Yes, he’s 46 this year

I don’t know how you got a degree.
I bought one like everybody else

You are a very special person
Thank you.
You are the least intelligent person I know
And how many do you know?
One.
Is that a tautology?
Don’t ask me,i’m stupider than thou.
Who is Thou?
No, how art thou.
Why bring Art into it?
Is it bad?
What,art?
Plato thought so
But he’s dead

I am happy to be in the one third of Britains who are not depressed by Lockdown.I’m depressed by politics and the men who seem to be unsuitable as leaders
Are we afraid of the unknown, afraid we can’t have foreign holidays or jusr fed up with summer being spoiled?
Afraid of Trump winning.. that would depress God.
I think working people have the right to be afraid, especially people on low wages already
Who would have thought that we voted democratically ‘ahahahaha to leave the EU
with a little help from Russia yet we are distressed we can’t holiday in Spain or Greece
Why don’t people join up the dots? We can never have it all….. make your own fun and joy
Can you see?
Can you hear?
Can you walk?
Have you got a family who care and some friends?
Do you own a car?
Why not take up new interests.Lots of YouTube videos are lessons in Art,sewing, philosophy etc
And if you have a good job please help charities like the Samaritans who need money if 2/3 of us are depressed

https://www.theatlantic.com/family/archive/2020/10/reading-too-much-political-news-bad-happiness/616651/

This requires that we honestly examine our attachments. What are yours? Money, power, pleasure, prestige? Dig deeper: Just maybe, they are your opinions. The Buddha himself named this attachment and its terrible effects more than 2,400 years ago in the Aṭṭhakavagga Sutta, when he is believed to have said, “Those attached to perception and views roam the world offending people.” More recently, the Vietnamese Buddhist sage Thích Nhất Hạnh wrote in his book Being Peace, “Humankind suffers very much from attachment to views.”

As the election season heats up, many Americans are attached to their opinions—especially their political ones—as if they were their life’s savings; they obsess over their beliefs like lonely misers, and lash out angrily when they are threatened. This is the source of much suffering, for the politically obsessed and everyone else.

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The pathways to the heart are made with love.
And those who truly seek will  never lose.
As virtue and her graces smile above
We see the hills ahead,the rocky views.

With willingness to cross the seas of mud,
To venture into tangled briar-filled woods.
Our soul within shows us the highest good,
For trees that looked quite dead are now in bud.

With flowers springing up  between our toes
Encouragement is ,with relief ,received
And as we smell the fragrance of the rose,
At last we know our hearts were not deceived.

For Virgil, fortune favours those with steadfast feet.
The journey may be long,the end is sweet.

“Fortune favours the brave”is attributed to Pascal,Montaigne and Virgil

.